Hey! I'm truly sorry this update came so late. It was really, really busy, and this chapter was quite hard to write. I'm not too glad about it, but it has to do.

This is the last chapter. Next story will take some time, I'll have to think about one. Please abide with me! ;)

REVIEWED: thewayfaringstrangers

angelfabeth: Truly? I just translated 'son of Earendil'. But did he abandon the right to use that title by chosing for an elvish life? Just curious :)

Arwenia: Thank you! It was marvellous :)

Frodo's sister: He was? Oww, my mistake. I fear I can't change it anymore, but i'll keep it in mind for future stories. Thank you! :)

Halororum3: It is. I'm sorry for the long wait, it was quite busy.

Muirgheal-of-Lantern-Waste: Haha, thank you for the compliment :) Yes, well, that what most fangirls want to read. Don't you have the same feeling when you're reading a book and you're just in love with a character? I always want them to be hurt, or to do something special, for it means a lot of attention goes to them :)

Nessa Ar-Feiniel: Thank you!

She Elf Of Hidden Lore: Beautiful pen name! Thank you! I admit I'm not very well in remembering their ages, I just make up something :) But it's more or less accurate :P And besides, Tolkien never mentioned Legolas' age, or did he? :)

TheButterflyCurse996: Well, it was a bit too obvious, was it not? :P Did you now manage to read the mail? :P

Ynnealay: Thank you! Another wonderful review -yes, I was blushing again :P. I answered in a mail ;) I fear next story won't come too soon, but I'll keep thinking. :)

He was standing near a river. He didn't know its name, though. The forest that was surrounding it looked very much like his beloved Eryn Lasgalen, but where the Anduin was wild and impetuous, this river was deep and abstruse, flowing lazily along the banks, its water dark and somewhat threatening.

Hesitantly, Legolas approached it. He knew that he shouldn't do it. He knew he should fight it. He knew something horrible was going to pass as soon as he entered the river. But an unknown force dragged him forwards, one he couldn't resist. Slowly, ever so slowly, his feet took him to the black river, until he was standing at its border. Then, for the first time, he looked up.

At first, he didn't see much. Mist was swirling over the water, a white, dense cloak that contrasted sharply with the darkness of the river. Mysteriously, seductively, it beckoned him closer with snow-white fingers, whispering in his ears a strange faery song. He had no choice but to obey it. He stepped forwards.

Somewhat disconnectedly, he felt how the cold water enfolded his ankles. Almost immediately, he couldn't feel his feet anymore. The icy threads climbed higher, through his legs, his hips, his chest. He began to shiver. When the cold reached his hands and his eyes, a strange coolness spread through his skull, and he noticed he was no longer bound by the spell. The mist had ceased whispering. Instead, it was clearing out now.

Immediately, Legolas halted, knee-deep in the river and stared before him. The white curtain had disappeared completely. He could finally see the other bank. He looked across –and gasped. A figure, all too familiar, was standing there, sadly, solemnly.

"Naneth?" The fair lady only smiled mournfully, though she didn't come closer. Quickly, Legolas tried to walk to her, but a new spell seemed to have captured him, and he couldn't move his feet. The ice in the water had frozen him. The elf tried several times in vain to free himself, failing miserably. He turned to the queen.

"Naneth? Why won't you come to me?" She didn't speak. She just stood there, silently. Her long gown was almost transparent, and the fading light in her eyes made it difficult to see her expression. Somehow though, Legolas felt the mood in the air shifting. Lhantelin stood more upright, her shoulders were tenser, her eyes grew colder. It seemed that all of a sudden, another woman had taken her place. She was no longer the tender mother he had lost, but a queen of the dark forest. When she spoke at last, her voice was as cold as the chill winds that send snow and ice to smother summer and autumn.

"You killed me." The accusation in the sentence was so sharp that Legolas stumbled back as if he was physically hit.

"I… No! It was not my intention! I…"

"You killed me." As she talked, other shades appeared. Warriors with bloodied swords. Archers with cracked bows. Spearmen with only the broken shafts of their weapons.

They all stared at him, melancholy and accusingly.

"You killed me." Solemnly, they joined her, though their mouths did not move. Louder and louder they chanted those terrible words.

"You killed us."

"No…" Desperately, Legolas threw his hands around his ears and fell upon his knees. Every syllable seemed to pierce him like a knife. "Please, don't…"

"You killed us. You killed us. You killed us."

The coldness of the water enveloped him, and he plunged into it, hoping that the chill would dispel the vision. But it didn't. Instead, it embraced him with icy arms, pricking him with it's frosty needles, adding thus to the pain in his heart. It became harder to breath now. His lungs were frozen.

"You killed us you killed us you killed us you killed us you killed"

"NO!"

With a gasp, Legolas sat upright in his bed. His panting breath was the only sound in his room. Panicking, he looked around him, half expecting to see the shades of his mother and her warriors appear around him. It was so dark in here. Almost as black as the river…

In a fearful rush, Legolas grabbed for a pouch with tinder and threw it unto the smouldering ashes in the grate-fire. He barely had to blow to rekindle the fire. The dry material caught flames almost immediately. In a matter of seconds, a comforting warmth spread throughout the chamber. Gratefully, Legolas send a little blessing for the servants who were in charge of the fire in the guestrooms. He knew he hadn't made life easy for them –refusing to acknowledge their presence, making no effort at all to appreciate their work, not even thanking them when they left him- but right now, he asked Eru to give them joyful lives and a shadow that won't diminish. Then he looked over his shoulder into the corners of the room.

No ghosts.

Now that the chamber was bathed in the warm, reddish light, the horror and adrenaline that had made his limbs tremble faded. Somewhere back in his mind, he felt a faint relief that he already knelt before the fire, otherwise he was sure he would have fallen. Closing his eyes, he just leant forwards, until his forehead touched the warm floor. His hair was floating dangerously close near the open fire, but now, he truly didn't care. A deep sigh escaped his throat.

He didn't know how long he sat there, bent forwards. The light behind the thick curtains changed a little –the silvery glitter of the stars became mixed with a hint of warmth, a sign that dawn was not far away- but perhaps it was already well past sunrise, and the sky was clouded. Slowly, very slowly, the tension in his muscles faded away, and his laboured breathing became a little easier, as the shadows of the night slowly left him. He hated being this weak, but still, he could not change it. It was his punishment.

When he had composed himself once more, Legolas raised his head and listened. Everything was silent. He frowned a little, confused. The few nights he had fallen asleep, the nightmare had always returned, making him scream like a child when he woke up. And always, Elrond had been there, next to him, hushing him, and singing sweet melodies. Ashamed, Legolas had never been able to muster the courage to speak to him, or even to look at him. Instead, he had withdrawn in himself, until the lord left, disappointed, and only then the elf would looked up, to go to the balcony and scream his pain and guilt to the nature around him.

But Elrond wasn't here now. And he didn't know whether he should feel relief or sorrow. The soothing presence of the elf-lord had been an intruding constant, and now it was gone.

All of a sudden, the silence was ripped apart by a loud wail. Immediately, Legolas grabbed for his weapons, only to realize that they weren't in the room, and he cursed softly. That moment of thought was enough however, to calm him a little. He did not relax completely, but at least he wouldn't attack any unfortunate elf that might enter his room now without a second thought.

Another wail. Legolas' eyes widened as he realized what he was hearing. A baby! That could not be! No elf-children had been born in this haven for a very long time. Legolas himself was considered as one of the youngest of his people. Surely the news of thecoming of another child would have spread to Mirkwood, just as waves rippled over the water when a pebble disturbed the surface.

But there it was again. The heart-wrenching sound of a hurt child. Legolas wondered where lord Elrond was. Surely the elf-lord would come quickly to the sound?

But minutes past, and no opening ofdoors or hasty steps were heard, only the pitiful crying. Legolas tried to ignore it. He had not the heart to leave the room. Not so soon.

Please, Lord Elrond. Go to it. Let it stop! The wailing brought back memories of his mother.

Several minutes passed again, and the child was still , Legolas couldn't take it anymore. He sprang up and almost broke the door in his haste to open it. Then he stormed into the room next to him… and halted mid-step.

The room was beautiful. The curtains had been drawn back completely, so that light –whether it was from the stars or from the fiery sun- could play within the chamber. The walls themselves were painted in a dark blue, with many silver glimmers on them, and even the moon was present. On the other side of the room, a light forest was depicted, green and mysterious, but full of joy. The third wall held Minas Tirith on it, gloriously lit by the sun, and the Riders of Rohan arriving there. The last part was painted in the soft colours of the sunset, and the sea and the havens breathing out peace and bliss.

But Legolas didn't pay any attention to his surroundings. His eyes were fixed on the little cradle in the middle of the room –or better, upon the small, tearful face of the baby inside it. From the moment the elf had appeared in the chamber, the child had stopped crying, and was now staring in wonder at the disheveled elf. Even as Legolas watched, a small smile was beginning to show beneath his tears. He stretched out a tiny hand, cooing softly. Legolas sighed in relief. The horrible, lonely noise had finally ceased.

He turned and exited the room again. He hadn't evenreached his own chamber though before a new wave of wailing rose from the child's room. The elf cursed softly. Apparently, he would have to give more effort to regain his silence. Swiftly, he went over to the cradle, making sure he didn't crush any of the scattered toys beneath his feet. As soon as the child saw his face, he stopped crying and laughed happily. Two tiny hands stretched towards the elf's face again.

"Now, now, penneth. Please stop crying. It makes me very saddened when you cry. So don't do it anymore, alright?" Legolas said uncertainly, his voice hoarse from the long silence. He really wasn't used to children, but he hoped the baby would understand the message.

"Baba. Babada. Da da." The child kept on making noises, while sucking contently on his big toe. His big eyes remained fixed upon the elf.

"Good. Then we have an agreement, don't we?" Carefully, Legolas started to walk back to the door. When he reached the closet halfway the room, the babbling behind him ceased, and a mournful, wailing sound rose. Sighing, the elf turned again.

"Now, now, none of that. We had a deal, remember? No more crying." Stubbornly, the child stretched his arms and bent his back, as if he wanted to push himself out of his cradle. He let out another pitiful wail. Legolas bowed his head in acceptance.

"Well, I guess that a deal goes both ways. Okay, I'll hold you for a moment, but then you'll go back to sleep and be still, all right?" A bit awkwardly, the elf took the little bundle in his arms and held it close. It was so small! Legolas felt as if the child could break any moment. Very, very carefully, he shifted him until they had both reached a comfortable position. The child immediately grabbed for a golden lock, and held it firmly.

"Don't pull. Don't pull – aie! That's not very nice of you," Legolas protested, frowning. There was no chance he could put the bay back in his crib when he was tugging so hard on his hair. Gently, he tried to entangle his tresses from the tiny fingers, but the child was remarkably strong and wouldn't let go. He had obtained his little treasure and no one in the world would be able to make him abandon it. So the elf bent his head a little more forwards and resignedhimself tohis fate.

Only then didhe see the round ears, and he gasped softly.

"You're a human!" For a moment, he was frozen. Suppressed memories returned in all theirmight, claiming his mind and his vision. He saw the village. The Men forwhom he had begged his mother to finally come andsee the strange race. The brute hunters. Their desirous gazes, both fortheir luxurious clothing and for his mother. The blood. And all of a sudden, a rush of anger welled upinside of him, drowning out the grief. His face turned into a horrible grimace as he looked at the human child, putting him back in his cradle rather forcefully. The hard tug at his hair only served to fuel his anger.

"You're a human! You- It's your fault! It's your fault my mother died!" Legolas began to scream, not caring if anyone could hear it. Every ounce of guilt, fear and sorrow now came to a violent explosion. The baby had fallen silent and was not crying –to Legolas' slight surprise- but staring at him with shocked eyes, his hands and legs pressed close to his tiny body.

"You and your kin! Be cursed! Why did she have to die? Who gave you the right to ruin everything you lay your hands on? You are just little children, too clumsy and blind to see things as they are! Always nagging and breaking and destroying, always so quick to anger and so cold in your speech to others, even though your words are friendly! Why do you always have to destroy everything?" His last words were nothing more than a sob, and he fell on his knees, his head leant against the cradle. And for the first time in the many days after his mother had died, Legolas cried.

He cried long and hard, allowing the tears to wash away all the guilt and anger he had felt when he had been sent to Rivendell to heal. Only the grief remained, as it would remain for many, many years, but the pain also held a touch of hope, a promise that one day, the sorrow wouldn't be that bitter anymore, that one day, he would be able to recall happier memories of is mother. And slowly, very slowly, his tears dried.

By the time he looked up again, the sun was well up, andstreaming into the room, red and golden, as ifto shame the blush that had appeared on Legolas' wet cheeks when he remembered how he had screamed against the little baby. It amazed him that he hadn't heard any crying in his rage. He'd better leave now, before Lord Elrond came and found him in the children's room, upsetting his new charge.

Slowwithshame and exhaustion, he rose and turned to the door, but an exultant cry stopped him. Astonished, he looked at the cradle. The baby was staring back at him, with a great grin upon his face, his hand as of old stretched out to him in an imploring gesture. His eyes held no accusation or fear, but an innocent pleasure. Hesitantly, Legolas walked back to the crib.

"What do you want, penneth?" The other hand was now stretched as well, and the child giggled in pre-anticipation.

"Alright, I get it. I guess it's the least I can do now." For the second time in one night, Legolas held the warm body in his arms, and wondered about the soft breathing and the quick heartbeat he felt under his hands. Children were a treasure indeed for elves, and now that he was not blinded by grief or anger, he felt a strange protectiveness for this baby well up in his heart. Tenderly, he breathed in the sweet smell of talc and life, and stroked with his nose over the child's skull.

"Forgive me, penneth," he whispered so softly. Perhaps he didn't even speak it out loud, perhaps he only thought it. But the baby in his arms relaxed with a happy babbling, and sighed contently. Within a few minutes, he was fast asleep, a golden strand of hairlocked in his hand.

Only there, in the warm glow of the rising sun, Legolas felt how tired he actually was. He had neitherslept nor eaten for days, and he finally allowed his body to show it. Before he knew what he did, he had plumped down in a chair next to the cradle, with his precious treasure still in his arms, and laid his head against the rail. And he slept.

That was how Elrond found them later that morning when he appeared to check on his youngest, disheveled and with some straw in his hair. The foal had been born, laboriously, but both mother and child were well now. As he had expected, the birth had taken all night. He hadn't even been able to see to Estel even for a few minutes. But it would seem his child hadn't been alone tonight. And that he was not the only one who had had some respite from his nightmares.

Silently, he closed the door and smiled. A vision had come true. A thread in Vairë's tapestry had been put on the loom. And even though he knew it would be long before the elven prince and the young human would meet again, he felt a deep happiness that his youngest son would not have to face his destiny alone.

Legolas stayed in Rivendell for another week, mainly to build his strength up again. Then he departed for Mirkwood, for the shadow had grown again, and the people and the king needed their prince. And as Elrond had foreseen, it would be many, many years before he laid eyes upon Estel again.

But that's a tale for another time.

Perhaos you would like to hear this other tale now, or would you rather like another not Legolas-meet-Aragorn-story? Let me know!

xXx Archiril